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Down by the Police Station, just the other day,

There was a demonstration, where people had their say.

They had their signs and slogans, demanding civil rights,

And members of the press, with brightly shining lights.

They chanted very loudly and marched around outside,

While on display one lady, sat on the steps and cried.

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When the cameras finally focused, upon her tear stained face,

She quickly, for the audience, began to state her case.

She claimed that she was kidnapped and taken to the jail,

Where then began her torture, it was such a moving tale.

She claimed to have been tied down, with straps upon the floor,

While two detectives questioned her, behind a locked steel door.

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They asked about the "Squamish Five" and when she would not tell,

She claimed the two detectives, then beat her all to hell.

The torture was administered, 'till three o'clock at night,

And finally the released her, looking quite a sight.

She staggered from the building and headed to her home,

And now she is the subject of my latest little poem.

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Now from my observations, of this lady on T.V.

There was not a single mark, or a bruise that I could see.

And where she got this story, I only can surmise,

Either she is dreaming, or telling many lies.

I think it is the latter, since I know the actual tale,

Of how this little lady, became a resident in jail.

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It seems this faultless lady, was lying on the ground,

In the 800 block of Main Street, sleeping very sound.

In a liquor induced stupor, she lay beneath the stars,

Like many other patrons, from many of the bars.

So when the wagon driver, observed her lying there,

He quickly stopped his wagon, and put it on the air.

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He picked up the drunken woman, and put her in the box,

Started up his wagon, and headed for Detox.

But on the way the lady, was awakened by a light,

And prior to arrival, she began to scream and fight.

The staff up there refused her, and he took her to the jail,

She sobered up four hours, that is the ending of this tale.

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Now why this lass is lying, I am sure that I can't say,

Except that in the skids, it happens almost everyday.

Wild fantasies abound, of robberies and losses,

And complaints keep coming in, to be heard by all the bosses.

So here is a word to new recruits, just coming on the street,

If you want to be a cop, be prepared to draw some heat.

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For Internal must investigate, the smallest little mutter,

On the street, try real hard, to keep yourself above the gutter.

The best that you can do, is go out and do your work,

And worry not about complaints, made by some little jerk.

All cops you know, will be in shit, it never ever falters,

Keep your nose, above the top, it's only the depth that alters.

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PC 664 T.J. Gowdyk 84-02-16 (15)
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